Thirty-One and a Half Regrets
Rose Gardner Mystery #4
Denise Grove Swank
Thirty-One and a Half Regrets
Rose Gardner Mystery #4
While Rose recovers from a broken heart, she finds herself at odds with her sister—and business partner—Violet. Rose buries herself in her landscaping work, but becomes worried when her employee and friend, Bruce Wayne Decker, goes missing.
In the meantime, Fenton County assistant D.A., Mason Deveraux has been patiently waiting to begin a relationship with Rose, but she realizes she needs to confront the demons of her past before she can embrace a new future. She needs to find out the truth about her birth mother.
But her past isn’t her only demon. An undercurrent of tension has been spreading through Henryetta, Arkansas since drug lord, Daniel Crocker’s arrest six months ago. Still, she’s not prepared for a nightmare come true: Crocker’s escape from prison. Crocker carries a grudge and he’s determined to make Rose pay, but he plays a game of cat and mouse, forcing Mason and the Fenton County Sheriff’s department to hide Rose on her birth mother’s farm. But will it be enough to save her?
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Cover Design: Eisley Jacobs
Photography: Iona Nicole Photography
Developmental Edit: Angela Polidoro
Copyright 2013 by Denise Grover Swank
All rights reserved.
Chapter One
I had no idea how my life had gotten so complicated.
Sitting in an overstuffed chair in Jonah Pruitt’s living room, I stared out the window as a steady rain beaded on the glass and rolled down the pane. The weather reflected my mood. Dark and gloomy.
“How often do you think of Joe?”
I swiveled my head to look at Jonah, my friend and now therapist. He offered me a warm smile. When I found out a few weeks ago that he’d been a practicing psychologist in Texas, I asked him to consider listening to my problems. We had been meeting twice a week ever since. I had offered to pay him, but he’d responded by saying that because I’d saved his life, he would forever be the one in my debt.
Shifting my gaze to my lap, I picked at a loose thread in the hem of my shirt. “Not as often as I did a couple of weeks ago. Working helps, but the weather has been horrible this past week. I’ve had more free time, which means I’ve been seeing a lot of Violet.”
“How are things going with your sister?”
Now wasn’t that the million dollar question. When Joe walked out of my life a month ago, Violet had been more than eager to step in and coddle me. But I’d found it difficult to step back into our childhood roles—Violet as the protector and me as the helpless victim. I was tired of playing the victim, which meant Violet didn’t know how to relate to me anymore. But more importantly, the night before Joe broke up with me, Violet had confessed that she’d let half the town think I’d stolen her inheritance from our mother’s estate and used it to open our gardening nursery, forcing Violet to work for me without pay. In truth, I’d financed the nursery and allowed her to be co-owner with little investment of her own. Worst yet, she’d let people think badly of me to help hide her own indiscretion—an affair with Henryetta’s mayor, Brody MacIntosh.
I’d forgiven her, but I couldn’t forget.
“Things are still rough. We don’t see each other much except for what little interaction we have at the nursery. Until the rainy weather hit, I was away a lot working on landscaping jobs with Bruce Wayne.”
“Does she seem contrite?”
I shook my head, looking at the window again. “She says she is, but she still sneaks calls to Brody.”
Jonah sat up straighter. “What do her phone calls with Brody have to do with it?”
Closing my eyes, I heaved a sigh. Jonah knew about Violet’s affair with Brody and how her soon-to-be ex-husband Mike had threatened to take their children away if he found evidence of it. But he didn’t know everything.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No.” While I knew I could trust Jonah with my secrets, I still couldn’t bring myself to tell him the real reason for my breakup with Joe. It was too horrible to think about, let alone talk about: Joe’s father had blackmailed him into running for a state senate seat by producing false evidence that not only had Mike bribed county officials to grant him favors in his construction business, but that I had hired Daniel Crocker to kill my mother, and that Violet had been conducting an affair with Brody. Only Joe didn’t know the evidence his father had on Violet was real. And while I knew that Mike and I were innocent and could clear our names, my sister would pay for her crimes with her children. She’d told me that she and Brody wouldn’t see each other until things died down, but she talked to him in hushed tones on the phone multiple times a day.
Some days, I resented her. I resented how she’d pretended to be so perfect all these years when really she was as flawed as the rest of us. Her mistake had been colossal, and yet she only seemed to regret getting caught.
But I kept my mouth shut, because while I knew that Jonah would never tell a soul, he’d know. He’d look at her differently and treat her differently, and Violet would figure it out. I couldn’t deal with the fallout of that.
But most of all, I kept quiet to protect myself. Resentment ran like a river through my soul, deep and ugly. Jonah was a man of God, and what would he think of me if he knew that?
“I just think she should feel more guilt over having an affair is all.”
“You’re not responsible for other people’s feelings of guilt or lack thereof, Rose. Even Violet’s. You can only be responsible for yourself.”
“I know. I’m just not sure who I am anymore. The person I was before Joe is so different from the person I am now.”
“Rose, you aren’t Eliza Doolittle and Joe wasn’t your Henry Higgins.” His toothpaste-commercial smile reminded me why he was such a success in televangelical circles. “Sure, he played a part in your transformation, but you have to take ownership too.” He paused. “Your past doesn’t have to control your future. You are in charge of your future. Not your mother. Not Joe. You.”
I sucked in my lower lip and snuggled deeper into the chair. Intellectually, I knew he was right, but my mother’s voice was a constant hum in my head.
“I know your mother had a profound effect on your self-confidence, but it’s time to leave her in the past. It’s not going to happen overnight. Honestly, you might struggle with it your entire life. But the more you confront the negativity head-on, the less it can control you. When you hear that voice inside saying you can’t do something, immediately confront it and tell it that you can.”
I laughed. “I’m supposed to talk to myself? What kind of therapist are you, Jonah?”
He smiled. “Yes, talk to yourself all the time. Even out loud if you have to. We believe what we hear repeated over and over to us. Your mother told you that you were evil and worthless. You just need to retrain yourself to believe something different.”
I nodded. When he said it, it made sense.
Jonah shifted in his wingback chair and reached for his mug of tea. “Have our talks helped?” He took a sip. “Do you feel like you’re moving forward?”
“Yeah. I think I’m seeing things more clearly now. And I am moving forward. It’s been five week
s since Joe broke up with me and although I still miss him, I’ve accepted that he’s gone. I want to be happy again, and I think maybe that can really happen.”
“That’s good.”
“But something’s still not right.”
“Well, it has only been a month, so you’re still grieving. Still, I suspect the problem might be something non-Joe related. Something you seem to avoid every time I bring it up.”
I lifted my gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“Your birth mother.”
Closing my eyes, I pushed myself deeper into the cushions. “I didn’t even know she existed until about six months ago. Why should talking about her make a difference?”
“Her inheritance enabled you to start your business with Violet. Her existence and her death shaped your life in ways that had a profound effect on you. In a way, I’m facing a similar situation with my own mother. I can’t ignore how her actions have impacted my life, and neither can you when it comes to your birth mother. Of course it makes a difference.”
I pressed my mouth closed.
“Have you ever been to your farm?”
“Her farm.”
“No, Rose. Your farm. You own it. Aren’t you curious?”
I lifted my shoulder into a half-shrug as I turned back to the window. “Maybe a little.” But the truth was, I’d given a lot of thought to my birth mother over the last few weeks. Jonah asked about her almost every time we met and had done so even before our talks became official. The bottom line was that I was angry with Dora Middleton, the woman who’d given birth to me. I knew it was an irrational feeling, but there it was. If she hadn’t died in a car accident when I was less than two months old, my life would have been different.
I didn’t want to tell Jonah any of that. What kind of person would he think I was if I told him I was angry with a woman who’d died through no fault of her own, and might, in fact, have been murdered?
“I’m thinking of selling it. I put all my available money into the nursery and I can’t withdraw anything from my trust for several more years. We’re doing so well, we’re considering expanding, and I could use the cash for that.”
“Don’t make a hasty decision. The farm might be your only tangible tie to your birth mother. At least consider seeing it before you decide.”
I stared out the window at the dreary day. The thought of visiting the farm terrified me, I just wasn’t sure why.
“Rose?”
I lifted my mouth into a tight smile. “I’m just tired. Bruce Wayne has been nursing a cold, and I’ve been doin’ both our jobs the last two work days.”
“It could be our sessions too. You’re digging through a lot of emotions in a very short period of time and it’s exhausting. Perhaps we should cut back.”
My eyes flew up and I leaned forward, gripping the arms of the chair. “No. I don’t want to cut back.”
“Okay, we’ll keep meeting twice a week for now.” He set his mug on the coffee table and rubbed his left arm. “And now I need to get to my own therapy session.”
“At least you’re not wearing the sling any more. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Jonah had been going to physical therapy since his mother had shot him a month ago.
“Yes, but mine is progressing much more slowly than yours, I’m sorry to say.”
I stood and picked up his mug, sparing a glance at his kitchen chair—the very one his mother had tied me to the night she almost killed me. I shuddered then moved to the sink. “Are you still having nightmares?” I asked, rinsing out the cup.
“Not as often. They’re getting better.” He stood and chuckled. “And I thought I was the one asking questions.”
“Our session is done, which means we’re back to being friends.” I turned around and picked up my sweater. “And I’m allowed to worry about you.”
“I’m healing, inside and out, so no need to worry.”
“It looked like there were more people in attendance at church yesterday.”
That mega-watt smile spread across his face again. “My TV viewership is higher than ever. Everyone loves a good scandal.” He winked at me, but I knew him well enough to see behind his shiny façade. There was pain in his eyes.
I grabbed my purse and threw an arm around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay. For both of us.”
“Be kind to yourself, Rose,” Jonah said.
“Take your own advice, Jonah,” I teased.
“Fair enough.”
I drove back to the nursery, dreading a confrontation with Violet. We had been too busy over the weekend to do much talking, but I couldn’t expect my luck to hold out. We’d had a lot of last minute pumpkin shoppers along with some return customers whose kids loved the hay bale maze we’d set up on the empty lot next door. But tomorrow was Halloween and business was bound to slow down. Despite Violet’s character flaws, she had a good head for business and had already started preparing for a Holiday Open House with live trees, ornaments, and decorations.
She was sweeping the floor when I walked in. She paused mid-stroke and watched me brush past her. “Rose, we need to talk.”
I froze. My increasing animosity must have caught her attention, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to have this conversation. I spun around to face her, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Tomorrow’s Halloween, so I’ll need to leave early to get the kids dressed in their costumes.”
“Oh.” The band around my chest loosened. “Okay.”
“We can either close early or you can man the shop. Do you have any landscaping jobs tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “We’re in the middle of one right now, but the job site’s bound to be muddy with all the rain we’ve had the last couple of days. Besides, Bruce Wayne might not even be back to work tomorrow. He’s still nursin’ that cold.”
She put her hand on her hip. “Are you sure he’s sick? Maybe he’s just off getting high with his friends.”
“Bruce Wayne hasn’t gotten high since he started working for me.”
“That you know of.”
“You don’t know him like I do, Violet.” The resentment reared its head in me, ugly and large, and there was more attitude in my voice than intended. I was tired of her always criticizing my friend and thinking the worst of him. “He loves his job and would never do anything to jeopardize that.”
She started sweeping again. “Okay … if you say so.” She paused for a second. “Do you still want to go trick-or-treating with us? Mike’s still coming,” she grumbled. “I thought about talking him out of it, but he enjoys traipsing around the neighborhood more than I do.”
She had asked me over a week ago, but since then things had gotten more and more intense between us. But I loved trick-or-treating with the kids. Maybe because Momma had never let me and Violet do it. “Yeah, I’d love to see the kids in their costumes.”
“So why don’t we just close early and you can come over and help? I’ll make a pot of chili.”
I smiled. “I’d like that.” I’d been going to Violet’s for Halloween since Ashley was a few months old and my sister dressed her as an Anne Geddes flower.
Her back straightened and she offered me a stiff smile. “Then we’re good.”
We were far from good, but we’d do for now.
Chapter Two
I woke up the next day to my phone ringing on my nightstand. A dusky gray light filtered around my curtains, so I knew it was morning, just another overcast and dreary one.
My little dog, Muffy, whimpered when I leaned over to grab the phone. The display read 6:58 a.m., but no name appeared, just a phone number. “Hello?” I answered, still groggy.
“Rose, this is David.”
David Moore? “What’s wrong?” I shot upright, fear rushing through my veins. David was Bruce Wayne’s lifelong best friend and roommate. And also a notorious pot smoker who didn’t believe in getting out of bed before noon. So why was he calling me before seven in the morning?
“Nothin’s wrong. I’m just callin’ to tell you that Bruce Wayne can’t make it in again today.”
“Why are you calling and not Bruce Wayne?”
“Uh.” He paused. “He’s been up all night coughing and he finally got to sleep.”
“What are you doing up so early?”
“Who could sleep with all that coughing?”
Something didn’t feel right. “Has he gone to the doctor yet? He really needs to see one, David. I know he doesn’t have insurance, so tell him the nursery will pay for it.”
“Okay … I will.”
“He’s still not going to go, is he?”
He didn’t answer.
“Is he running a fever?”
“Well, yeah.”
“He could have bronchitis or pneumonia. He probably needs antibiotics.”
“Okay!” David sounded annoyed. “I’ll tell him.”
“David, you really need—”
“I said I’d tell him! I gotta go.” He hung up before I could say anything else.
I threw on a fluffy robe and a pair of flip-flops and took Muffy outside. My next door neighbor, Heidi Joy, waddled out her front door while I watched Muffy relieve herself on her favorite bush.
“Oh, hi, Rose.” She said, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously then cinching the belt of her robe over her protruding belly.
“How are you feeling?”
“Oh, you know. Tired. Same as always.” She came around the side of her house toward her trash cans. “Andy’s been picking up a lot more hours to help cover expenses, which is great, but it means he hasn’t been around as much to help me.” She spread her feet apart and leaned over to pick up a metal trash can.
I hurried over to her. “Heidi Joy, let help you with that.” I gently pushed her to the side and picked up the heavy can. “What were you thinking, trying to pick this up? You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Andy already left and forgot to carry the cans out. I can’t let all these dirty diapers sit outside another week.”
Thirty-One and a Half Regrets (Rose Gardner Mystery #4) Page 1
